Cut
by FeelsLikeConfettiFalling
Summary: All of us have that one dark secret we keep hidden from the world.
1. Hidden

The rain smashed against the window and tried to break through the tough glasses splintering cracks and screams. But the walls of the room that held him held firmly, but barely, as the lightning screeched through the walls, baracading him in a frightening embrace. The darkness closed in, but the little light which he kept on forced the outside demons away, but the inner demons drew closer as he cried out in anguish.

Logan raised his hand, a little ray of light from his bedside lamp reflecting off the silver piece of metal he held so tightly in his fist. Tears streamed down his face as he made a quick downward slash, blood instantaniously spilling out of the fresh gash in his wrist. He winced, gritting his teeth against the pain, but after a few moments he began to calm down. Pain is good. He told himself. Pain is good.

The rain roared outside, smacking and beating against his windows, his walls, his safety. It was as if it was after him, clawing at his doorstep, waiting to grab him in it's clutches and drag him straight down to Hell.

Logan slashed at his wrist again, watching the blood slowly bubble to the surface, then quickly spilling out over his white skin, turning it dark red in an instant. All he did was watch with tear stained eyes, watch as a piece of himself broke free, went wherever it pleased. He watched as his pain started to drip out of his body, as if it were a cleansing of some kind, and spill out onto the carpet. He still clutched the trustworthy piece of metal in his hand, refusing to even think of the notion of putting it down. The tighter he gripped it, the deeper he felt it dig into his own skin, calmed him down slightly. But just slightly.

He sobbed to himself as he watched the blood flow freely from the gashes he made in his arm. The blood streamed over hundreds and hundreds of other cuts and scars, hundreds and hundreds of horrifying memories and dark stories, hundreds and hundreds of nights just like this one.

At this point, Logan was completely ignoring the spattering rain calling his name outside. He was completely oblivious to everything around him. All he could focus on was himself and the actions he was taking upon himself. This little razor, his little friend, was his key to unlock happiness. It was his ticket to Heaven, his life saving companion.

This was all Logan had known for the last 3 years. He kept it hidden, his own little secret, a dirty little secret. Everything went wrong in his life, everything was always crashing down around him, piling on him guilt, pain, worries, troubles; it was as if life wouldn't give up on throwing horrific things at him. So, Logan coped the best way he could: by harming his own skin.

He could never let anyone find out, not even Kendall, James, or Carlos. If word ever got out, if this kind of thing ever hit the media, all hell would break loose. Of course, Logan knew other celebrities harmed themselves, but how would it look to everyone if Logan Mitchell, 1/4 of Big Time Rush, a role model, was cutting himself? Not only that, but he would be ridiculed. What could a celebrity like Logan possibly be going through that was painful enough for him to take his anger out on himself? He had everything. People would think he was selfish, only cared about himself. Attention seeking. Something he's heard a billion times before about others like him. Plus, he wanted this to stay to himself, to keep it as close to him as possible, lock it away inside of himself, because if anyone found out, they'd try to take his best friend away from him, gone forever.

And then what would happen?

Logan couldn't even think about what would happen if someone would happen to take his razors away. He'd be lost, lost without his constant companion of the last three years, lost without the one thing that could actually make him feel something. He looked down at all the blood, looked down at his soul dripping out of him, and he was suddenly filled with a sense of fear. What if someone did find out? What would happen? What would everyone's reactions be? They'd put hiom away, lock him up in some mental ward somewhere, where he would be judged as a "freak" and a "mutant". Nobody would talk to him. Or touch him. Or even go near him. People would think it would be something contagious or hypocritical, they'd be scared of him. So he kept his secret hidden behind long sleeves, bracelets, and a fake smile that would fool anybody.

Logan didn't bother to clean up or even stop the blood. For a while, he just sat there, leaning calmly against the bed frame, where just minutes ago he had been a huddled mass on the floor, crying out for help. The rain had calmed itself, knowing the demons had claimed yet another victim for the night. Depression was dark, demonic, and full of revenge and evil. And Logan was it's prey.

Logan closed his eyes and tried to envision a time when he was happy, tried to remember a time when pain was just falling down on the playground or falling off of your bike, but no matter how hard he tried to remember those happy times, when life actually mattered to him, his past was blocked out, the happy images banned from his memory, by the awful thoughts and memories of the razor.

After a while, Logan finally found the will and strength to move. At first, he couldn't bring himself to do it, all he could do was stare at his own blood, hypnotized by it's scarlet beauty. He raised his fingers and gently touched his arm, the cool red liquid feeling warm and inviting on his fingertips. He gently brushed his fingers against his lips, the feeling of it on his face calming him somewhat. He did this to himself, he damaged his own body, and it all sank in slowly as he stood up and headed towards the bathroom to bandage himself up.

As he approached the bathroom, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Stupid face, stupid hair, stupid eyes, stupid...everything! He didn't understand what girls saw in him, what all his fans saw that made them fall in love with him. Probably nothing, he thought, they are probably all faking it. That has to be it. Everyone was probably just faking it, they probably all felt sorry for him for being the least attractive and most unpopular member of the band. Logan's face furrowed into anger and he slammed his fist on the mirror, almost shattering it to pieces.

Avoiding his reflection, Logan ran his arm under the water in the sink, watching as it turned from crystal clear to dark red, all his troubles literally going down the drain. With his free hand he reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out the gauze. He had become a pro at this, he didn't even have to think about it at all, anymore.

This was a procedure he had down thousands of times before. He dried his wounds, then gently, but quickly, bandaged them up, wrapped them tightly in a warm blanket, cleaned the sink and put all his supplies away, and as he took a good look around to make sure he didn't forget anything, took a good look around to make sure he didn't forget anything, and it was as if nothing ever happened.

Logan couldn't help it, he just couldn't hold it any longer, he had to look at himself. He turned to the full length body mirror in the room he and James shared. It was times like these that he hated sharing a room with James, all the mirrors everywhere, all the constant reminders that he was as ugly and fat as everyone said he was.

He looked himself over, from head to toe, and clenched his hands into fists. Oh, how he wanted to break those mirrors, to smash each one of them into a million pieces, to smash every mirror into a million pieces so that he would never have to look at himself ever again. Without thinking, he pulled up both of his sleeves and looked at his arms. Cuts, scars, they all covered his arms from his wrists to his elbows. He reached down and pulled each of his pant legs up, revealing hundreds of cuts on each leg. He lifted his shirt and looked at the cuts on his abdomen. He rarely cut there, and the scars were very much faded, but better to be safe than sorry. he couldn't remember the last time he wore a short sleeve shirt or tank top. He longed for a day where he could wear a tank top again, and made himself even more depressed than he was just thinking about how never again would he be able to live a normal life.

But since when was his life ever normal?

He breathed a heavy sigh and closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time he ever smiled, and actually meant it. He's been this way for so long it was almost impossible to even remember a brief moment when his life actually meant something to him. To everyone else, to his fans, his family and friends, even Kendall, James, and Carlos, he slapped on a fake grin and put on a show. On the outside, he was the picture perfect child that anyone would want to have. Smart, talented, happy. Logan scoffed at himself. THat wasn't really him at all. He was a monster. A ruined state. Depressed. Sheltered. Alone.

A cutter.

Absentmiondedly, Logan began to trace the cuts on his arm. He couldn't remember when he was actually happy, but he remembered the dark moments, remembered each event that led up to each fateful cut.  
>Time and time again he made sure to count each one of his cuts and scars and remember the incident that led up to it, a constant reminder to himself that he was and always will be a monster.<p>

A monster. That's exactly what you are. A monster.

"Logan! Are you coming down to eat?" Mrs. Knight's voice startled him. "Are you ok, you've been up there for quite some time. Do you need me to send the guys up to help you?"

Logan's eyes grew wide and he froze for a moment, panicking on the inside. He quickly rolled down his sleeves, used his mask to cover the darkness that lied underneath. "No, no, I'm ok, I'm ok! Just, uh, just...I'll be down in a minute."

Logan took a deep breath and averted his gaze from what stared back at him in the mirror. He never wanted to look at that hideous face again, never wanted to look at the repulsive animal that stared him back in the eyes whenever he looked at his reflection. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sight, then turned and went downstairs, plastering on a smile that said everything was alright.

"Hey, you were up there a while. You alright?" James asked, sitting down at the table. Logan rubbed the back of his neck anxiously and gave a small laugh.

"Yeah, I, uh, just not feeling well." Logan never really had been good at lying, but apparently he was good enough to fool them. He had been convincing everyone that he was fine for over 3 years, and as long as he had everything under control, he'd be alright.

Maybe.

Logan took the chair next to James and tucked his left arm underneath the table, holding it close to his body. He stared down at his plate, unmoving, as everyone else sat around him, even sitting feet away making him uncomfortable. He felt as if any minute someone was going to rip his sleeve up and he'd be exposed. He watched as everyone inched closer and closer, the feeling of everyone gathering around him sending anxiousness up his spine and making his arms feel like they're burning...

"Logan, you ok? You gonna eat?" Kendall said, snapping his fingers. "Dude, seriously wake up. You're so out of it today, you alright?"

Logan snapped out of his daydream and looked around. He was imagining it all, nobody was out to get him. Everyone was just sitting around the table as Mrs. Knight put food out on the table. Logan sat there and watched as they all happily reached for spaghetti and garlic bread, and absentmindedly rubbed his wrist, the scars puffing up just enough for him to feel the roughness of his past. As he touched each scar, he could almost see the moment when he made the cut that cuased it, like his mind took him back to the past and he could do nothing as he watched the scene playover in his head, the scarlet redness of his blood filling his vision, finishing off with the silver gleam of his small, shiny blade...

"Logan, sweetie, aren't you going to eat?" Mrs. Knight asked as she sat down. Logan looked up and realized everyone else had already started eating, while his plate remained empty. Everyone was now staring at him, his arms beginning to burn as he pulled them close to his sides, away from everyone's wandering eyes.

"Logan, if you aren't feeling good we can call the doctor. Just golie down and get some rest if you want."

Logan, after several silent moments, shook his head, nervously. "No, no, I'm, i'm alright. Just, uh, just, you know, little headache, that's all. I'll uh, take some uh, tylenol later."

Logan lied right through his teeth as he grabbed some food, to settle the nerves of everyone else. Despite his own stomach, and how much this food made him want to vomit right now, he shoveled it into his mouth and pretended like he was enjoying it to satisfy everyone else. Logan had lost his appetite long ago, now the sight of food made him sick to his stomach. Ever since he discovered how a small metal blade could really make him feel, everything else seemed useless.

"So how was you boys' day?" Mrs. Knight asked. The other guys began going on about their day and how much fun they had on their day off.

"We were at the pool all day. It was amazing to finally have a day to relax and keep to ourselves." Kendall replied. James grinned.

"New chicks at the Palm Woods. You could say I had fun people watching." Katie shook her head at him, James laughing at her disapproval.

"You degrade yourself, and others." Katie said between chews.

"Yeah, but I have a fun time doing it." James replied. Katie rolled her eyes.

"Me and Alexa hung out today." Carlos said, a grin pushing through to his face, his cheeks getting red. "She's incredible, she makes me so happy."

Logan sighed. He wished he could have fun and relaxation time like Kendall, have confidence like James, and have someone who truly loved him like Carlos and Alexa. But sadly, as he looked at himself every day in the mirror, he knew that nobody would love someone as disgusting, uncaring, monsterous and as scarred as he was.

"And you, Logan? How was your day?" Mrs. Knight asked. Logan began to panic as all eyes turned to him. He looked up at them, just enough to see their curious stares. He began to tremble, nervously pulling at his sleeves as he felt their eyes drinking up the sight of him, waiting for an answer.

"Fine." He finally answered, finally taking a bite of food, not even looking at them. He stared down at his lap, his eyes focused on his sleeve. His fingers gripped the edge so tight he thought he'd rip the fabric apart.

"You don't look so good." Mrs. Knight said. Logan's heart beat faster and faster in his chest as she got up and walked towards him. Mrs. Knight leaned over him, caressing his face to look into his eyes. Deep within them, deep within his wretched soul, there was darkness, madness, pain, no desire for living at all, but it took him all his might to mask it, push it deep down within himself so nobody could see the true colors he hid within his past.

"Stop, no, it's, it's ok, I'm fine. Just a little overworked I guess." LOgan said as she touched his face. The touch of others made him cringe, created a burning sensation in his skin. ALmost as bad as the feeling that was on his arms.

Mrs. Knight pulled back and gave him a sorrowful look. "Maybe you should take off tomorrow," she began. "Stay home and get some rest. It might do you good."

Logan stared down at his plate, unmoving, unlooking. "Yeah, maybe." He muttered to himself.

_Only one thing can do me good right now._

Logan nervously tugged at his sleeves. His cuts rubbed against the bandage, seemingly calling out his name, aching for just one more slice, one more cut to ease the feeling of anxiety that kept building up inside of him. He wanted the bite of the metal more than anything at that moment, and the feeling of the fresh cuts on his wrist made the urge even harder to resist.

"Logan, you seriously look like you're about to cry. Are you ok, dude?" CArlos asked. Logan looked up at them and realized they were all looking at him. He felt his cheek and felt a tear drop gently run across his fingers and roll down his palm. He started to panic, feeling he had just been caught.

"Logan...do you want to talk about something?" Kendall asked, his expression fading from happy to increasingly worried.

"NO!" He said, panicked. He quickly wiped the tear away and put on one of his best happy faces he could possibly muster. "Sorry, sorry about that. Now, what were we talking about again? So, Carlos, what did you and Alexa do today?"

Carlos grinned and began going on and on about all the things he and his girlfriend had done, steering the conversation away from Logan. And Logan sat there, forcing food down his throat, pretending to be listening, pretending to be ok, when really he was lost. Lost in thought, lost in his mind, lost in his place,

lost in this world.


	2. Conceal, Don't Feel

**Hey guys! Just wanted to say I love your reviews, and some of you thought I wasn't continuing it! But I am, this is a multi-chapter story :) Anyway, sorry this is short. I kinda wanted to get it going before I started posting long chapters, that and its after 12 in the morning xD**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

The rain was still beating harshly against the windows, the lights now beginning to flicker. The thunder roared loudly in the deep, dark sky, and the lightning flashed brightly and briefly, illuminating the darkness. Logan stared out the window, watching the rain splatter against the windows. He watched as the raindrops rolled down the window, very much like tears...or blood. This sight calmed him somewhat, and it was almost hypnotizing to him as he watched.

"Logan? Are you done eating?" Mrs. Knight's voice startled him, snapping him out of his hypnotic state. Logan looked around and realized everyone had finished and was getting up. He absentmindedly pulled down hard on his sleeves as he stood up.

"Y, yeah, yeah I'm good. Thank you." He replied, his voice low. He hugged his wrists close to his body as his heart raced, always fearing someone will discover his secret. Conceal, don't feel, he thought to himself. Be like Elsa, hide everything from the world, keep everything hidden, don't let anyone in, don't let anyone see.

"Logan, you gonna come play?" James called from across the room, waving a controller in the air. Logan slowly turned his head towards him, biting his lip, keeping back all the emotions he was hiding for so long and trying not to let them burst at the seems. His entire body was a rusted lock and chain, ready to crumble and fall at the slightlest touch.

He didn't want to go, he despised the slightest notion of going. The slightest thought of people around people made him sick to his stomach. Even getting within feet of another person made him tremble, the feeling of pins and needles going all the way up his arms made him downright scared. But, he knew if he didn't get his act together and hold it back, people would become suspicious, confront him, judge him...

_Conceal, don't feel._

He didn't know how Elsa did it for so long, but he applauded her for trying.

"Heeelllloooooo, earth to Logan." James called again. This time Logan whipped his head in the direction of James' voice, forcefully moving his arms to his sides. Although he wanted them closer, as close to his body as he could possibly get them, he couldn't let anyone see past the dark mask he wore, almost like an invisible wall.

"Yeah, on my way." Logan replied. He got up and jogged over to the guys. They moved and gave him a seat right in the middle, and Logan sucked in his breath and hesitated a moment before sitting down. Ever since this started, ever since he realized his world was spiraling down and there could be no way to stop it, all his energy left him. Performing a concert, all fake. It was all fake energy that he somehow in some way found and pushed to it's limit, and for some reason everyone believed it. Even standing up or getting out of bed made him tired. But he never told anyone. They'd never understand.

"Here." James said, handing him a controller. "You're up."

Logan faked a smile and joined the game, on the outside being totally normal, nobody suspecting a thing, but on the inside, he was crying. Crying for him, for the world, for his friends, for reasons he didn't even quite understand. When he reads those tweets and comments all over the internet asking what it's like to be depressed and he sees all those different answers, a part of him breaks down. "When you're depressed," he thought to himself, "It feels like you're always crying, even when you're not on the outside. Because on the inside, you're crying. You might be looking alright on the outside but on the inside, you're slowly breaking down, screaming, clawing, crying for help in desperate attempts but no one hears you. And you keep it all back because...nobody ever understands how you feel."

He never used to understand. Now, 3 years later, he knew the truth.

As always, Logan's mind went elsewhere. Just sitting there, his friends, his brothers, surrounding him, talking and laughing the way they always did, having such a good time with one another, brought him back to a time when the world actually mattered to him, when he was actually happy. Suddenly he was back in Minnesota, sitting on the floor in front of the tv at Kendall's house, laughing, talking, and joking with them like he didn't have a care in the world. A big smile spread across his face as he looked at his friends, wondering how lucky he was to have brothers like they were.

"Glad to see someone's feeling better." Kendall said, grinning. Logan's smile faded and he immediatly sat on his wrists as all eyes focused on him.

"What, who, wh, what?" He asked, getting nervous. He felt all their eyes on him for a moment and he didn't know what he did, but he knew it was wrong.

"You." Carlos answered. "You were smiling. Must be feeling better, huh?"

Logan paused for a minute and felt his face, absentmindedly looking for any trace of a smile. Was there really one there or was he imagining things? He hadn't smiled in years.

"You're so weird, Logie." Kendall said, grinning. He threw his arm around Logan and smiled. "But we love you, bro." And with that, Kendall turned his attention back to the game, leaving Logan to wonder.

Logan stayed with them until it was time for bed. He sat there and laughed, had fun, joked around, talked, just like things always were. He was the picture perfect child. Smiles, laughs, fun, no problems of any kind. Although, to society, the picture perfect child wasn't a teen sensation with cuts all over their body.

He made sure to hide it, though. He never failed to do that. Never got too close to anyone, kept his wrists close to his sides, didn't raise his arm, didn't reach across the table, he did everything very carefully and made sure he didn't mess up. One false move could send him spiraling down the wrong way and crash his whole world down, and he wouldn't know what to do with himself if that ever happened.

"You guiys need to sleep, you have work in the morning." Mrs. Knight said, resting her elbows on the back of the couch.

The guys groaned and leaned back.

_Go along with it. Don't let them know._

"We'll wake up, we always do." James said. Mrs. Knight raised an eyebrow and James shrugged. "Ok, sometimes, sometimes we do."

"Bed." She replied. The guys groaned once more and dragged themselves upstairs, Mrs. Knight just shaking her head and grinning to herself until they were out of sight.

"I think we can totally make it to the studio on time this time if we sleep in." James said as they reached the top of the stairs. "I mean, those last two times didn't count."

"James, last time you spent 40 damn minutes freaking out in the bathroom because you lost your comb." Kendall said.

"Lucky comb, smart ass." James said as he opened the door to he and Carlos' bedroom. Logan could help but stifle back laughter. Kendall grinned and shook his head as he opened the door to the room he and Logan shared, the four of them exchanging goodnights before shutting doors for the night.

Kendall immediatly flopped down on his bed and sighed loudly. "I am so tired." He moaned. "I want to just sleep forever."

Kendall, please...just don't say that. Please...

"Yeah, me too." Logan said, holding it all back. He sat down on the edge of his bed and fiddled with the end of his sleeves, staring at the ground ahead of him. He and Kendall had two totally different meanings when they said they wanted to sleep forever. It made Logan nervous just to hear it out loud by someone else. It sort of...scared him in a way.

Kendall sat up and brushed his hair back. He looked at Logan and nodded towards the bathroom. "You first." He said. "You're the one not feeling well."

Logan shook his head. "No, you." He replied. He touched his left arm. "I gotta do some things first."

Kendall shrugged and stood up and, grabbing his clothes, went in and locked the door, giving Logan at least half the relief he was looking for.

Logan leaned back and on bed and sighed. As he looked up at the ceiling, a tear fell from his eye and rolled down his face, disappearing once it hit the blanket. He closed his eyes and held back his sobs, gritting his teeth against the sadness that kept trying to force its way to the surface. All of this faking, all of this pretending to be someone he's not, all of this forcing food down his throat, smiling, happy-go-lucky bullshit, it was all getting to him. There were times when it just became to much and he just had to let it go. Let everything he held back for so long come forth and refresh his emotions, the very best it could. Crying helped him, but very, very little. Only one thing could truly help him and it was just inches away.

Logan sat up and stared at his dresser. He knew exactly the routine, too. Walk over to the dresser. Open the top drawer. On the far right in the back, there will be a little box. Open it. Push aside all the pictures from your past, they don't mean anything right now. Retrieve your blade. Do what you will with it.

Logan followed his normal procedures and was soon standing at his dresser holding his friend in his hands. He stared down at it, turning it over several times in his hand. The bright, silver metal it used to be was now stained red with blood from tear-filled nights from the past. Make a note, get a new pack of razors. Logan sighed and gently placed his razor back in its hiding place. He pulled his sleeve up and , making sure nobody was around, looked down at his arm, staring at all of the leftovers of self destruction there were.

_One scars, two scars_  
><em>Three scars, four<em>  
><em>Don't say I can't do much more.<em>

A lot of people like to think cutters don't want to stop, or that they don't wish they wouldn't have done some things they did. But the truth is, they do care, they care a lot. Logan didn't realize that until he actually started. He knew fans did it, and it hurt him a lot, it struck him with guilt and pain and made him wonder why someone would do something like that, made him wonder why they didn't feel guilty about it, made him wonder why they didn't want to stop. But now that he knew first hand what it was like, knew first hand about the pain experienced when you take that first cut, he knew everything. He understood it all, and understood why they say once you start you can't stop.

"I wish I was normal again." Logan said to himself, closing his eyes. He pictured himself on stage, smiling, singing for all the Rushers in the audience, and smiling for real about being in front of them, doing what he loved to do. THAT part wasn't being faked or pretended. That part he really did love. When he was around his Rushers, he felt...calm, at peace. Hundreds, if not thousands, of Rushers who had self harmed and were suicidal or overcame those things had come up to them and told the boys how they saved their lives and how they wouldn't have gotten over what they had if it wasn't for them, and in his heart he felt pain for them. He did it to himself, he physically inflicted harm upon himself, but whenever he heard stories like that, whenever he knew that he had changed a life or met someone who was going through something like that, he felt saddened by it, heartbroken even. The fact that he did it to himself and told others not to do it bothered him. He absolutely did not want his Rushers harming themselves, that's the last thing he wanted, but the thought of doing it to himself...he didn't know, he felt like a hypocrite.

Logan was instantly snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the bathroom door open. Heart beating wildly, he pulled down his sleeve in just enough time when Kendall stepped out, yawning and stretching. Logan's adrenaline slowed down after a few seconds, taking a big sigh of relief when Kendall flopped face first down on the bed, not seeing a thing. Logan grabbed his clothes and went to the bathroom without saying a word.

Against his will, when Logan locked the door, he forced himself to look in the mirror. The good thoughts about the Rusher instantly disappeared when he saw his face in the mirror. He scowled at his reflection, bawling his hands into fists at the sight of it.

"What do those Rushers see in you?" He asked himself. "They tell you that you save their lives, but how? I don't see it, I just don't see it..." Logan sighed and turned away, hanging his head down low. He really didn't have the energy to do that tonight.

He pulled a long sleeve shirt on over his head and left the bathroom, seeing Kendall already turned off the lights and was in bed. Logan shook his head and smiled as he crawled into his own bed just inches from Kendall's, the sound of tyhe blonde's breathing always helping him fall asleep,no matter what mood he's in or how tired he is. As Logan layed his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes, he heard Kendall speak up from the other bed.

"I know you've been feeling down lately, Logan." He said, all seriousness in his tired voice. "But I wanted to tell you we really do care about you."

And that was the end of that.

Logan shut his eyes, a tear slipping out from underneath his eyelids. He pulled the blankets over his head and sank down under his covers, Kendall's words striking him harder than a baseball bat to the gut.

As his eyes shut and he drifted off into sleep, Logan had a dream, a dream he quite often had. Night after night his dream appaeared, never leaving him alone,a constant reminder of what he was and why. And it was all too real, all too vivid, too much for him to handle. More of a horrible flashback than a dream, but it still haunted Logan as much as nightmares haunted little children. But to Logan, this WAS a nightmare.

_He was sitting in the apartment with the guys after a long hard day in the studio. Gustavo had yelled at them all day, they were late for work, he kept hitting the wrong notes, and on top of that, he completely forgot an entire verse for a song during concert rehersal. As he was sitting in the apartment, he went on twitter to read his mentions, which he really knew he shouldn't be doing. Why look when all people do is call you fat, ugly, and stupid? He already knew he was, he didn't need anyone to remind him._

_ It started again. The hate comments were piling on and on, seemingly endless. "Logan is such a fucking ASSHOLE." One person tweeted. Another said he was so fat and unattractive it was no wonder he didn't have a girlfriend. They weren't just that, they got worse and worse until they were down right evil. This had been going on for years. He was never the favorite, not in Minnesota, not even in Hollywood. Always saying he should be kicked out of the band, people even going as far as to say he should just kill himself. He had never felt that kind of abuse before, and now that he was famous and people were starting to notice more about him, he knew they were right. Everything they've been saying, everything about him that was posted around the globe, all true. Tears filled his eyes as he dashed up to his room, slamming the door shut behind him and locking the door. He fell to the ground and began to sob. Why him? Why choose him for their evil words that stabbed him just like a blade? That was when the idea hit him._

_ He heard of people doing it, it was all over twitter and tumblr. He knew a couple people who did it, but after a few moments he mentally slapped himself for even thinking of that. No, cutting yourself that was for people who had actual problems. Celebrity comments shouldn't make someone depressed like that, right? But as Logan thought about it, thought about how over the last several years of bullying that nobody really did like him, that it was all in his imgination, was where he drew the line. Something snapped inside him that day, and it was then that he grabbed the razor and gripped it in his hands as he held it up to his wrist._

_Once, just once. No more. I'm done. One. No more..._

_ But after he took that first slash, something changed inside of him. It was a change he couldn't quite make out, but after the first few minutes of complete and utter pain, he felt calm. He looked down at the blood pooling on his skin and suddenly all the hurt was gone. The physical pain he felt, it was like it washed away all his emotional pain...and it felt great._

_ He made another two slashes in his wrist, not too deep, but careless scratches, and he watched again as the scarlet red blood poured out of him like a tiny waterfall._

_ It was that day that his life changed forever. It was that day that nothing in his life would ever be the same, that nothing would ever be the way it was supposed to be._

It was the first time he had ever cut himself.


	3. The Girl With The Curves

Logan did his very best to hide even the slightest bit of anxiety from everyone else. Everyone knew he hated taking risks, that's always been a fact everyone knew, but for three years now that anxiety grew worse and worse until he began having full blown panic attacks. Sometimes even in the middle of a performance he'd start having an anxiety attack, and nobody would know. The thousands of screaming fans in the crowd kept smiling and cheering, the other guys kept laughing and having fun, and Logan stood there, going along with it all, all the while feeling stuck and like he was going to pass out. That's what was difficult for him. He HAD to go along with it. He was a megastar in front of thousands of suspicious eyes. If he didn't play along, everyone would know, and that would be the last thing he would ever want.

Logan woke up that morning, like all mornings, completely depressed. He shifted to face the window, a small ray of sunlight creeping in from the curtains. He felt a sharp sting in his arm, then when he pulled down his sleeve he remembered why. He felt compelled to pull back the bandage, to gaze his eyes across the dried blood. His heart sunk. He traced his fingers across the numerous scars and fresh cuts and peered back at the window. "Why does life have to be so difficult?" He asked himself, absentmindedly gripping his wrist. "Like, why do we have to go through this? Why do these kinds of things exist? Why, I'll never understand. I just do know that now that it's here, it's here, and it's never going away."

Fans always used to come up to him, write him letters, send him tweets, and all other things explaining to him about how they suffered or continued to suffer from depression, how they tried to kill themselves and how they had cut themselves before, and Logan never knew what to say. Before, he never knew what it was, never knew what pushed people to do something like that. The thought of physical harm? It made him cringe, and he was supposed to be a doctor, too.

He sighed and flopped back down on his bed. How was he supposed to act happy when on the inside he was dying? Although he had been hiding it for three consecutive years, he found that as each day progressed, it was getting harder and harder. And although he couldn't entirely feel it, he was slipping away further and further, so far into the darkness that soon there would be no more Logan Mitchell, but a headstone that would mark where his eternal soul would rest.

Logan stared up at the ceiling, a tearforming at the base of his eye and slowly rolling down his cheek. How he had survived this long, he didn't know, but all he knew was it was getting even harder to survive.

He looked over to the next bed and saw Kendall wasn't there. Looking at the clock, Logan realized it was 7:36, and that he'd be late for work if he didn't drag himself out of bed at that moment. Why the other guys didn't wake him up, he wasn't sure, but he just didn't want to dwell on that right now.

Logan groaned as he dragged himself out of bed and stretched, his arm aching from last night's endevours. He stood there rubbing his head for several moments, waiting for the headache and feeling of nauceousness to go away before heading downstairs against his will.

"Hey! He's alive." Carlos said,grinning, as Logan entered the kitchen and sat down next to Kendall. Logan flashed a fake smile at him.

Unfortunately.

"We didn't want to wake you up, you seemed pretty sick yesterday so we felt you needed to sleep in." Kendall said, answering Logan's next question. "We were gonna tell Gustavo you weren't feeling well and give you the day off."

Logan knew his friends meant well, so he shouldn't be ticked off at them. But he just shrugged it off and thanked Mrs. Knight for the breakfast before quietly beginning to eat.

"Still not feeling well, bro? You sure have been sick." James said, taking a sip of orange juice and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "You're a doctor or something, or are going to be, isn't there any way you can fix it?"

There's no way to fix me.

"Are you feeling up to working today, sweetheart? If you're not, honey, you can stay home and we can call the doctor." Mrs. Knight asked, feeling Logan's forehead and looking into his eyes.

"Your eyes seem cloudy, darling." Mrs. Knight commented, concerned. "You always have such beautiful eyes. You seem to have lost your sparkle."

Logan couldn't help but stifle a laugh at her comment. He lost his so called sparkle years ago, as if he ever had it.

"I'm fine." Logan mumbled between mouth fulls of forced food. Each bite he took burned his throat, but he forced himself. He forced himself for his friends, his family,the cameras, the Rushers, everything and everyone. The Logan they saw wasn't really Logan Mitchell anymore, but a hollow shell waiting to decay and die.

"Boys, you need to go before you're late." Mrs. Knight said. The other three jumped up and headed upstairs, laughing and shoving each other on the way up, but Logan just sat there, staring at his plate. Mrs. Knight sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her with the most saddened look she had ever seen.

"Logan,maybe you should stay home today." She said, trying to look into his eyes, trying to find that that spark that had burned out so long ago. "I think it might do you some good."

Logan gave her a smile smile and shook his head. "No, I think, I think I'll be good for today, but thank you, Mrs. Knight. I appreciate it." He stood up and looked at her, giving her a smile that he felt was real. "If I don't feel better after today we can go get it checked out, so you don't have to worry, ok?"

He smiled at her before slowly making his way upstairs with the others, sighing as he dragged his souless body up the stairs. He stopped for a minute outside he and Kendall's bedroom door, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to look normal before turning the knob and stepping inside.

"THINK FAST!" Was all he heard before a pillow whacked him in the face. Logan grabbed his face and cursed under his breath before looking at Kendall with an extremely pissed off look. Kendall, on the other hand, was doubled over with laughter.

"Dude, what the actual fuck?" Logan asked. Kendall merely laughed some more, trying to catch his breath.

"You looked like you needed to be cheered up. And your reaction was priceless." Kendall laughed. Logan rolled his eyes.

"That did NOT make me feel any better." Logan said, reaching down to grab the pillow.

Kendall wiped a tear from his eye and took a deep breath. "Yeah but it sure made me feel pretty good." He said, grinning at his friend. Logan smirked, and when Kendall turned away, Logan chucked the pillow right back at him, knocking him clear to the floor.

"Bullseye." Logan said, and he began to laugh as Kendall stood up, grabbing onto the bed to try and pull himself up.

"You asked for it, now." Kendall said, smirking. Logan tried to run away, but Kendall grabbed an armful of pillows from both of their beds and started throwing them at Logan, causing him to laugh wildly and shrink to the floor. For a moment, Logan forgot about his misery and sadness, and felt as though he was his old self again.

"You're out of pillows now, you can't hurt me anymore." Logan said, grinning. Kendall smirked and pulled one out behind his back and chucked it at his friends face. Logan ducked and the pillow ended up crashing into Logan's dresser, sending a mess of his things all over the floor. Kendall stared wide eyed at what he had done and began to walk towards Logan.

"I'm SO sorry!" He said, bending down to pick up a broken picture of Logan and a fan. "Dude, really, I'm so so so so so so so so so so sorry..."

Logan didn't care and began to help Kendall pick up broken pieces of glass, until he looked over and realized his special box had been knocked over. Logan kept a box on his dresser, always, his mom sent it to him one year for Christmas. Inside were a picture of him and his friends, and he hated it at first because he thought at first that it was too girlish-looking, like a jewelry box,but after a while it grew on him and became his secret hiding place, only to be opened with a special key. Logan, now realizing the severity of what has just occured, stared in horror at the contents that had spilled out onto the floor in front of him-about 12 brand new, sharp and shiny, silver razor blades.

Logan whipped his head to see if Kendall saw anything, but his blonde friend was too busy picking up shattered pieces of glass to notice.

Logan quickly gathered up the razor blades and shoved them back into the box, the smiling faces of he and his friends sending pangs of guilt up his spine before shutting the box and locking it back up with the key, just in time before Kendall looked up at him.

Logan gently set the box back down on his dresser and took a big sigh of relief. He turned towards Kendall and helped him pick up the last of his stuff up off the floor. "Hey, man, I really am sorry...Kendall said, putting the broken pieces on the dresser.

"Dude, stop worrying, it's ok." Logan said, flashing his friend a smile as he calmed himself down. "This stuff,most of it, can be easily fixed...it'll be alright." Logan said. He placed some more knocked down items on his shelf, and pushed his special box back a little bit, out of sight and out of mind.

Kendall stood up and held out a hand for his friend, pulling him up to his feet. "I just wanted to see you smile. I thought it would be fun to goof around a little bit, I really am sorry."

Logan placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and smiled. "Dude, it did make me feel better, ok? That stuff can be fixed, I promised. Thanks." He gave Kendall a hug and closed his eyes, the feeling of hopelessness and emptiness returning as he embraced his friend. Logan pulled away and looked into Kendall's eyes. In them he saw hope, love, a spark. He turned to the mirror and looked into his own eyes. Shady, dark, dull, empty. He sighed and opened his dresser.

"Let's go to work, fun, fun, fun, right?" Logan said, smiling. Kendall grinned and the two got ready, Logan's eyes continuing to travel to his little wodden box with each passing second, all the while hoping, wishing, wanting, needing, craving for the feel of the bite of the metal blade. When he and Kendall left for work, the last look of the room Logan gotwas of his box, and his 12 little friends inside.

Kendall and Logan went downstairs, laughing and smiling, and everyone else smiled at them as well. "Someone seems to be in a better mood." James said. He slapped his friend's back and opened the door to leave, Carlos following. Logan shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

Not needing to speak another word, the four boys left the apartment, Mrs. Knight waving after the four smiling boys, not knowing one out her four boys were broken.

* * *

><p>Upon arrival at the studio, as always, the boys could already see an abnormally large group of girls out front, waiting to greet them when they exited the vehicle. "Here we go." Kendall said.<p>

"Prepare for the mob." Carlos added. James smirked and fixed his hair before pulling up to the curb, security guards surrounding the limo attempting to ward off a bunch of teen girls armed with posters and loud screams.

"Three, two, one." Kendall said, and he opened the door. Logan sucked in a breath before stepping out. The sun pierced his skin and made him burn underneath his long sleeves. All eyes and cameras aimed at him, he faked a smile and walked through the crowd to the door, each of the boys stopping for an autograph or picture on the way. One particular girl around the age of 16, asked for a group picture with the four of them. They had agreed and as she raised her left arm to take the selfie, all four boys laid their eyes on a dark, pink scar lashed into her left wrist, several more faded white ones below that. Once she took the picture, she thanked them, hugged them, and the boys were rushed inside. Logan remained silent the entire time, his mind going a hundred miles an hour.

"Did you guys just see that?" Carlos asked once they were inside, turning back towards the door. "I mean, I know we see it a lot, but damn."

"I don't understand why people do that." James said. "Like, I don't mean to be rude, but aren't there other things you can do to make you feel better? I don't understand why marking up your skin like that feels good. It freaks me out."

Logan's head spun and he stopped to grab the wall for support. Just the mere words they spoke made his whole body go up in flames, and his head spun so badly it felt like the floor was getting closer and closer, engulfing him in a dark pit of madness, until finally he couldn't take it.

"Excuse me." He said, and he took off, dashing wildly in some direction he wasn't quite sure of. He didn't care where he was going, just about the fact that he was going. He came to a bathroom and ran inside, jumping inside a stall and barely making it to the toilet when he began to throw up. He hunched over the rim, grabbing the edges to hold himself steady. His head spun and he tried to focus as he sat on the floor for several minutes trying to collect himself. He leaned up against the wall and closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. He just wanted to stay there forever, just wanted to lie there and never leave, to fall asleep and never wake up.

"Hey, are you ok?" A voice asked. Logan looked up, started, and saw a girl standing at the door of the stall, her face twisted in concern.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, a little embarrassed.

"More like what are YOU doing here, in the woman's bathroom." She asked. Logan's face flushed red and the girl smirked. "Come on." She said, taking his arm. "I'll help you."

Logan went to the mirror and cleaned up, splashing water on his face to wake himself up. The girl was standing next to him, handing him a cold, wet towel. Logan turned to her, and it was in that moment when he realized how beautiful she was. Tan skin, long, dark brown hair that fell beautifully past her shoulders, her legs perfectly shaped, complimenting the skininess yet curviness of her body perfectly well, she was a beauty. Logan couldn't take his eyes off her, and she must've noticed because she smirked and motioned for the door. "Come on." She said. "And I won't tell anyone you were in the girls' bathroom."

Logan blushed some more and followed her out, her checking to make sure no one was around before exiting. Once outside, she turned to face him, placing her hands on her tiny waist. Logan rubbed the back of his neck, completely tongue tied and embarrassed.

"How, um, how, uh, did you, uh,know..." Logan began, but couldn't finish. His face turned a darker red as he made even more attempts to speak, and his drop-dead gorgeous company just smirked and laughed. Logan couldn't help but notice the way her mouth curled up when she smirked, the way her perfectly shaped breasts sat tantalizingly mezmorizing on her chest, and the way her eyes looked at him with attitude yet sympathy. This girl, he thought, was more than beautiful. She was perfect.

"I saw you." She said, flicking a piece of her hair behind her shoulder. The scent of her perfume washed over Logan and his insides seemed to collapse at the glorious scent. "You looked pretty sick when you ran in there, I had to make sure you were ok. Plus, judging by the fact that you ran into the girls' bathroom made me think you were pretty delirious. That would've been quite the scandal for Mr. Logan Mitchell if the press caught you."

"You, um, you know me?" He asked, sticking his hands in his pockets, then taking them out again, fiddling with his shirt, rubbing the back of his head, fixing his hair, he just didn't know what on God's earth he was to do with them. She just laughed and shook her head.

"I think everyone knows who you are." She said,giving Logan a smile that completely melted him. He could feel the redness in his face, her smile just growing bigger because of it.

"Oh, um, yeah." He replied. "Kinda forgot about that part." He stuck his hands in his pockets, wondering why he was so nervous and why his face was still red, and decided to make conversation before things got even more awkward than they were. "So, uh, what's your name?"

"My, uh, name, um, uh, is," She said, and burst out laughing. Logan could feel himself getting red in the face again as she wiped a tear from her eye. "Sorry, I really am sorry. My name, Logan, is Vivianna. Yes, I know it sounds weird, but hey, I didn't pick it."

She sort of stopped and stared at him for a few moments, staring him up and down, and Logan felt embarrassed, like she expected him to do or say something in return.

"Um," He stuttered, "Your name, it sounds beautiful." She smiled at him and folded her arms across her chest, to Logan's disappointment, covering up her breasts. But there was something more about her, more than the fact that she was stunningly beautiful, that made him feel like she was a magnet and he was a mere piece of metal: there was something about the way she talked, the way she stood, the way she smiled and the way she said his name, something else about her that made him feel like he was falling. And he liked it. A lot.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere right now?" She asked, that smirk edging onto her face in such a way that made Logan's mind go blank. But before he could answer, she turned and started walking away, shouting over her shoulder, "Come on, I'll take you there."

Logan followed her, his feet eagerly matching her step, wanting to get close to her but at the same time afraid. What it was about her, he didn't know, but the two were eventually synchronizingly walking side by side, the scent of Vivianna's perfume overwhelming Logan.

"So what do you do?" He finally asked after several silent moments. "Like, what brings you here? To Roque Records?"

"Dancer." She simply replied. "Model, music videos, that kinda thing. I tried singing a few times, but mostly people just want to look at me." She smirked at him once again and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "I noticed you haven't stopped staring at my chest since we first locked eyes." Logan's face got red again but she just laughed. "That's ok, it's everybody. I'm not ashamed of my body,I embrace it. I don't let people take advantage of me, though. Those perverts out there think they can abuse a girl's body all they want, they think a girl's body belong's to them. Well, I won't stand it, and I hate people who are like that. That's why I like you, Logan." She winked at him and flicked her hair again. Logan smiled at her. She had a sassy attitude yet a caring disposition, all of it rolled into one girl made Logan feel as though he wasn't on earth anymore, but in a far away, distant, fairytale land that only existed in his imagination.

"I'm not stupid, either." She said. "People assume just because a girl is beautiful, she can't be smart. You can ask me anything about the past presidents and I can tell you the answer before you have time to breath."

"What day was Kennedy assinated?" He blurted out. Something was pulling him in, reeling him deeper and deeper into her world and they had only just met moments ago.

"Easy. November 22nd, 1963 at 12:30 PM. Lee Harvey Oswald shot him from a warehouse. Anything else?"

"What day was Lincoln inaugurated?"

"March 4th, 1861."

"George Washington's last words?"

" 'It is well, I die hard, but I am not afraid to go'."

Ok, Logan thought. This girl absolutely was perfect. And why she seemed to be taking an interest in him, he wasn't sure, he was just glad it was happening.

"You know what, Logan Mitchell, I like you." She said as they boarded the elevator the go up to the studio floor. "You aren't like most guys. I respect that."

"You respect that I'm different?"

"Exactly."

Logan smiled as the elevator took them up, and he wished it would just keep on going, higher and higher so their conversation could go on forever. But the elevator eventually left them off at the studio floor, and before Logan got off Vivianna handed him a small, folded up piece of paper.

"When you wanna talk." She said, winking. "I'm available anytime. See ya, Logan Mitchell." She gave him her signature smirk before the elevator doors closed on her face, seperating them two, taking her further away from him. Logan just stood there for what seemed like years, the piece of paper clutched between his finger tips, for once a real smile creeping onto his face. He had no idea what just happened, why it happened, or exactly what she saw in him, but for once,

he felt relatively happy.


End file.
